As Lovers Go
by Nights Sleepless
Summary: After an accidental kiss, Peter tries to figure out what he should do and how to convince Olivia to open her eyes. Set sometime after Bad Dreams.
1. Chapter 1

So, got the idea from this a while ago, and used Bad Dreams as the perfect time line, thingy.

I got the inspiration from the song _As Lovers Go _by Dashboard Confessional. I think it outlines perfectly Peter's frusteration with Olivia sometimes.

Yes, this will be a chaptered fic. I can't make promises on how regularly I'll update it, but I can promise that I _will._

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One in the morning. That's all his mind could grasp for some strange reason as he stumbled to the door. It's one in the fucking morning, and someone is knocking on the door. _If it's another case, I swear I will use Olivia's _own_ handcuffs on her. _He blinked, shook his head, and proceeded to the door. Sure enough, as he peered out the peek-hole, Olivia was standing there. But something was wrong. She was staring down, her hands clasping and unclasping.

Quickly, he swung the door open. He stayed casual about it, propping his arm up on the door and leaning into it. "Liv?"

He didn't miss the way her eyes flickered down to his bare chest before snapping up to his eyes. "I... I think... Maybe..." He loved it when she stumbled over herself like that, unsure of what to say. So, he sighed and patiently waited for her to make it work. "I'm afraid that... if I fall asleep again... I don't want to have another nightmare."

For a moment, he stood frozen. Like a movie, he saw what should happen play in his mind. He tries to comfort her, they kiss, they kiss some more. They'll have a secret affair under the FBI's nose. They'll fall in love. And for a moment, he didn't want that. Not even with her. Not that he didn't _want_ it. He was _scared _of it. Terrified, even. Frozen still scared. In his mind he could picture his father, from a time before he was crazy and a time where Peter's worries were on who to ask to his first dance, hit him on the back of the head and tell him to man up.

Taking a step back, he swallowed in an attempt to get words to spill out his mouth. Anything at the moment would be fantastic. "I'm... I'm sorry," he apologized, his voice low. Wow, that sounded more like a question than a heartfelt apology to a friend. _Way to go, Petey-boy. _He reached up and ran his hand through his hair. "Come on," he whispered, holding the door open.

She watched him for a moment, her eyes unreadable. He thought she might deny his offer, but she came in anyway. Closing the door behind her, he took a second to collect his thoughts. _Olivia's here... in my hotel room in the middle of the night. Got that much. She came here because she can't sleep. That's good, right? Yeah, I was the first person she thought of. She trusts me to comfort her. _Turning around, with a more hopeful and relaxed attitude, he gave her his best lopsided smile. Her eyes softened and she gave him a small smile of her own. _Very good._

He led the way to the couch, grabbing a t-shirt up from the coffee table. He pulled it over his head as he waited for her to sit down. "Do... do you want anything to drink? I think we have coffee... lots, and lots of coffee. Of course, we have more hot chocolate, thanks to Walter." _Oh yeah, smooth operator._

"No, I'm fine," she assured him, clasping her hands in her lap.

"Okay." He moved next to her and sat down, his arm reflexively going to the back of the couch behind her. He loved that she didn't shift away like he expected her to do. "Liv... you can't _not_ sleep." _Charming, very. _"I mean, they have Nick in a comma. He can't make you dream anymore. You're okay."

"I know, I know. I know all that. I just can't help but feel scared." She looked at him so seriously, he could've started giggling like a little kid nervous.

Instead, thank Heaven, he let his head tilt to the side. He looked at her like nothing else mattered. And he hoped that mattered. "Liv," he breathed, a small smile growing on his lips, making his eyes crinkle. "Listen to me. There is absolutely no reason to be afraid." As soon as the worlds left his lips he knew it was a lie. He probably should've left it at that, but for some reason lieing to her right now nearly killed him. "What I mean is, because there probably is a reason to be afraid, but what I'm trying say is..." He sighed, closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm here."

It was a completely overused and cliche thing to say. _I'm here. _Of course he was there! It was then that he noticed they were sitting in the completely dark, the moonlight outlining her features perfectly. God, he could never get over how beautiful she was. It was like everyday he noticed something different. Today, when she looked at him with those wide, scared eyes, it was the way the light reflected off the light brown specks in them. He was nearly hypnotized, wanting to lean closer, just so he could commit them to memory.

She looked at him for a moment before turning her face away, looking down at the couch space between them. He rolled his eyes at himself and let out a breath. "Liv-"

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I know how much you treasure your sleep, what with having to deal with Walter, and my cases." She looked up at him, a smile growing on her face. "It's bad enough I wake you up in the middle of the night to sort out my problems."

He let his smile fall. "Oh, come on, Liv. Don't pull that one on me." He shook his head, letting his hand on the back of the couch slide down to rest on the back of her shoulders. "Don't even _try_ to feel sorry for yourself, or me for that matter. Suck it up, and let me help you."

She seemed caught of guard for a moment. But then her face relaxed and she shook her head, biting her lip playfully. Unfortunately, that caused his eyes to glance down at her lips. His hand twitched, grasping her shoulder and pulling her closer to him. "Peter-"

"Hey!" He used his other hand to gently stroke her jaw line to turn her head to face her. "I'm going to give my friend a hug, okay?" She gave what he could only assume was a laugh. Pulling her to him, he wrapped his arms around her. Oh geez, even her hair smelt delicious. He could only imagine what her lips tasted like. But that was territory he was not going to venture into. Not tonight, at least. He felt her stiffen, like she always did. But she always relaxed, and soon her arms wrapped themselves around him too.

It was a nice moment, but those kind of moments end quickly. She was pulling away from him, and he had no choice but to let her. He knew if he argued, or if he held onto her longer, he'd only make things worse. With any other case, he didn't care about making things worse. In fact, making things worse came naturally with him, and he stopped fighting it. But lately, ever since he came here, he's been watching where he stepped. Thinking his words over twice before he says something.

He watched her tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and he felt his throat close. It was a desperate need for her to be _right there. _To be able to tuck that strand of hair behind her ear for her without her flinching away. To have her all there, everywhere. Have her so close she was all he could see. But, instead, he swallowed the lump in his throat and let out a dry cough.

Unfortunately, she thought he was emphasizing on how awkward the silence had become. "I-... I should go," she said, standing up.

"Wait!" He jumped up, but saw her take a step away from him. "I mean... are you okay? Will you be able to sleep tonight? Because if you're scared... I mean, I know this isn't very _professional_," he scowled at the word, "but I could always sleep on the couch. Walter's in the bath tub, don't ask, and you could stay here... tonight." He hated how hopeful he sounded on the last note.

"Like you said... not very professional." He nodded slowly, dropping his head to look at the floor. Of course. But his eyes snapped up when she touched his arm briefly. "But thank you, Peter. That's sweet."

"Well, I _am_ known around town to be just the _little sweetheart_," his attempt at a joke fell flat, but she smiled nonetheless. Something he lov-... liked about Olivia. She always got his jokes, and smiled even when no one else did.

Moving through the moon beams seeping through the blinds, she made her way to the door. He wished he could do anything to make her stay, but he knew any further attempt would just appear desperate. Or a little too eager for her comfort. So, he sighed for the tenth time that night or morning, and followed her to the door. She opened it, flinching at the loud creak the door made, and he felt his throat close up again. _Please reconsider my offer... _he begged her inside his mind. He hated how afraid, how jumpy, she was. It wasn't Liv.

Apart of him for selfish reasons only wanted her to stay the night besides the fact that she was terrified. He wanted to lay awake from his angle on the couch, watching her sleep. He wanted to be the one thing that could make her fall into a calm, deep sleep. He wanted to selfishly be able to say he was the one. The one who made her feel safe. Of all the things, he just wanted her to stay so he could see what it was like to wake up and know she was right there.

Grabbing the door from her, his hand brushing hers not so accidentally, he leaned into it. "Peter... I'll see you tomorrow? And if I get busy at work and can't make it to the lab, I'll call you." Oh _God._ She was just _so _cute. He was suddenly transferred back to middle school, getting butterflies. Well, he could always make himself feel better and call them 'manly butterflies'. Wasps? Moths? _Did it really matter? _Whatever it was called, he had them, and she could give them to him.

"Sure... sweetheart." She blinked at the name, stopping in the doorway. The hallway was dimly lit, allowing him to see her better than he had in the hotel room. She had bags under her eyes, her cheeks pale. Her soft blonde hair looked ruffled, and she was wringing her hands together again.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was leaning in, cupping her cheeks and pulling her face to him. As soon as their lips touched, he lost all self control. Not like he had, anyway, before he kissed her, obviously, or else he wouldn't have kissed her in the first place. He just prayed she didn't disable him with her hot FBI moves he'd seen her use on many men before him. All his dignity would fall with him if she did.

But, to his surprise, he felt her lips moving along with his. She stepped forward, pressing her body to his as she clutched his hair tightly, something that might hurt if it didn't feel _so_ good. His own hands slid down to her waist, holding her as tightly as he could to himself. Oh God, he couldn't even feel his heart anymore, it was beating so fast. Surely that must be harmful?

He could feel her starting to hesitate, and he panicked. Bringing his hands up, he ran them from her jawline to her cheek as he tugged on her lower lip. He pushed his hands over her temple, running his fingers through her hair, not knowing when he ever would again.

And then suddenly, reality and all it's damned flaws, came crashing back down. She pulled away from him, her hand going to her lips as if she couldn't believe what had just happened. Was it really that bad? He felt hurt, and slightly offended, by the way she stared at him with wide, confused eyes. Eyes full of regret. His hands were still on her shoulders and he stared at them as he let them fall to his sides. Damn. That's all he could really process. _Damn, she's really going to kick my ass now. Damn, I can't believe how strangely incredible that felt. Damn, I hate the way she's looking at me. Damn... just damn._

They stood there for a moment, the tension thick as ice. And, as if the ice suddenly shattered, she turned around and bolted without giving him a second look.

"Olivia!" He stepped out of the doorway. "_Olivia! Liv, damn it, stop!"_ But she kept running. She ran straight past the elevator, and he could have killed her right then. If she's running away, the least she could do was not murder herself by taking the stairs. They were the eighth floor for godsake! She was _already _exhausted.

The door swung open, hitting the wall so hard it made a loud _thud!_ She dashed through, and he watched her figure disappear step by step. The door slowly swung shut, making a soft click.

"_Son of a bitch!"_

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Lalalala! I don't know. But review and tell me what you think! I'm working out my ideas for the next chapter :)


	2. Chapter 2

I realize this chapter is very short, but I really wanted to capture the moment of 'what do I do now?'.

Hope everyone has a great Mother's Day :)

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There was an empty feeling in his gut as he shut the door, defeated. It was a cross between a daze and an awkward sense of complete loneliness now that she was gone. His heart was beating so quickly, he could barely feel his fingers. Or maybe his mind was too wrapped around her lips to think about feeling his fingers. Either way, he numbly moved back into the hotel room, his eyes glued to the floor. It was strange, but he just now noticed that the pen he had been looking for earlier that day was sticking out from under the couch.

As he sat down with a sigh, he was stumped. What should he do now? Should he just go back to sleep? Would he be able to? Maybe he should go after her. It wasn't like he didn't know where to find her. She would either go back to her place, sneak in past Rachel, and sleep this off like all it was like a dream. Or maybe she'd go the FBI shooting range and work off some steam. He chuckled in the silence, picturing her determined face as she tried to shoot the last few minutes away.

Maybe he _shouldn't _go find her. She would hate him for it. He wasn't even sure if he _could_. He felt like he weighed like a pile of rocks, his arms resting limply on his lap as he stared at the coffee table with blank eyes. It was the pure picture of pathetic. No wonder she had run away from him.

The fact that she had ran away hurt the most. Did she not think they couldn't have talked about the kiss? Surely it couldn't have been that bad that she wouldn't even acknowledge it the next day. Would he see her the next day? Maybe she'd call in sick. Maybe _he_ would play hooky. Runaway to spend the tension filled afternoon at a dirty bar filled with retired strippers and foreign guys looking to score with an American girl.

"Son?"

He barely even blinked at the sudden presence of his father. Instead, he just let his eyes slowly drift to him. Walter was standing in the bathroom doorway, his curly hair flattened on the right side of his head.

"Was that Olivia?"

This time, Peter did blink. But only at her name. A sudden pain hit him so hard he swallowed. "Yeah," he answered, his voice low.

"Were you shouting in the hallway?"

"Yeah," he answered again, nodding. He propped his elbows on his knees, and leaned forward. "Everything's okay, Walter. Go back to sleep." He placed his face in his hands, sighing. There was a moment of quiet, and Peter figured he should encourage his father more. But when he lifted his head to look at him, the doorway was empty. And he was alone once again.

Alone, alone, alone. It seemed without her, he _was_ alone. Whether there were people around or not. Pathetic. His muscles tightened and he released a groan of frustration. If he was the same guy he was before he came back to Boston, he might punch the walls, or kick the coffee table. But along with Olivia, his motivation to move had left. No, instead, he let himself fall back into a lay on the couch. Oh the troubles that would strike him in the morning.

Somewhere in the hotel room came the _tick tick tick _of a clock. It sounded louder than his own breathing. Shifting, he pulled the blanket propped on the back of the couch off, and tossed it over himself. Slow, barely thought out movements. He kept licking his lips, desperate to see if her taste was still lingering. Had a girl ever affected him this way? He didn't think so. Then again, was there another girl like Olivia Dunham? Absolutely not.

Rolling onto his side and tucking his chin to his chest, he shut his eyes. The memory of the kiss flashed through his mind without him fully being able to see it. It made him question that it ever happened at all. But, then he'd taste her on his lips still and know it did.

Somewhere during the montage memory of the kiss, he drifted off to sleep. Amazed that he had survived, and Olivia hadn't killed him for his stupid impulses. At the same time, sweating about having to face her tomorrow, both knowing things weren't going to be the same.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay. Sorry this chapter is short as well. And it took me so long to update. There's a reason for that.

Unfortunately, it's a reason I would rather not be a reason at all.

I hope you enjoy it! I swear, the next chapter will be longer.

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It was worse than he anticipated.

They had a case. Good, right? Cases usually pushed them together, forced them to talk and joke. Gave him chances to impress her and save her day.

Only, she didn't _want_ his help. He had no idea what she told herself, but she was staying as far away from the lab as she could. Hell, she even had Charlie bring over the body for them to examine. When questioned, Charlie just shrugged. _She said she was busy. It's a complicated case, she's doing everything she can._ Then, giving Peter a doubtful look, he attempted to tell Walter what he knew. Even seeing that amusing sight couldn't relax Peter.

_That's how she's going to play it?_ he growled to himself. He never pegged her for the kind of girl who would give someone the silent treatment. No, he had envisioned her as the lay it on the line kind of girl. The _this is what happened, this is what I think, and this is what's going to happen. _Had he thought wrong? Obviously.

Willing to distract himself, he pulled a stool up to his lab table. Well, it wasn't really _his_ lab table. But he had picked this table out from all the others, sat at it every day, kept all his crap on it, cleaned it, and eyed anyone else who sat at it. So, damn it, it was his. Rolling his eyes at himself, he pulled the tangle of wires he had been working on closer to himself and set at work. He had just gotten the dark red wire untangled from the green wire when Charlie walked over.

"Hey," he breathed, clapping Peter on the back.

Not looking up at him, Peter continued to paw at the wires. He narrowed his eyes, the infamous crease in his forehead becoming apparent. Didn't he just untangle that wire? There were _two_ blue wires? Fantastic. Setting the wires down, he pushed his long sleeves up and glanced up at Charlie.

"I don't know how Liv does it," Charlie commented, his eyes sweeping the lab.

"Does _what_, exactly?" Maybe it was hearing her name, or his jealousy that this man was a little too close to Olivia for Peter's comfort, but he was instantly annoyed. Was he about to say something that would offend Peter? His tone sure sounded like it.

After a moment, he gestured a hand to the lab. "_This. _All this insanity. I just briefed Mr. Bishop on the crime scene evidence, and I swear he didn't hear a word I said. Unless _caramel caribou_ flavored ice cream was at the crime scene, I'm pretty sure not."

"Caramel caribou?" Peter questioned, attacking the wires again, keeping his voice uninterested.

"He just started listing off his favorite aspects about it." Yup, that sounded like Walter alright.

Sighing, he stretched his left arm out as far as it would go til he could feel his joints burn slightly. Then, flicking his wrist, the joint in his wrist popped and he dropped his arm and leaned back. "Mkay," he observed. Walter was pacing around the dead body in a giddy matter, saying something quickly to Astrid, who smiled at him. "Everything looks okay to me."

"Sure?" Charlie asked him, raising his eyebrows.

Peter was leaning forward, about to hunch over his wires, when he stopped short. Tilting his head by the slightest, he looked up at Charlie. "Yes. I'm sure. Have we ever failed to get you your precious information? We know what we're doing."

Charlie studied him for a moment, unfazed by his snappy tone. Then, placing a hand on Peter's lab table, he leaned into it. Ignoring him, Peter stared at the wires, his eyes following the trail of a green wire. "I'm just trying to understand what's going on here," Charlie assured him, in that condescending manner all FBI agents seem to acquire.

Biting his tongue in an attempt to stop himself for saying something very smartass, Peter blinked slowly. "I've got it under control," he promised Charlie, his voice level.

Charlie let out a breath and stood up straight, dropping his hand from the table. "I see." Peter didn't watch him as he turned around and walked away. His damn head held above the clouds. Well, it wasn't that Peter didn't like the guy. It was just right now... Peter wasn't particularly fond of anyone right now. He was even hating on Gene, who just would _not_ shut up. Stupid cow.

He heard the click of the lab down opening, and the blinds hitting the windows as it closed. Assuming it was Charlie, he ignored it and pulled his notebook over to him. Briefly glancing over the information he had been doodling about the project he was working on, he attempted to write down a few more thoughts about it. But what he found himself doing was just darkening the letters and lines already written. Pretty soon, the ink was seeping through the page.

Standing up, he dropped the pen and clenched his fists at the side. Maybe he'd go help Walter with that body.

But when he turned around, he stopped in his tracks. There she was. The beautiful blonde agent, standing on the other side of the room. The one who stole his dignity and ran away from him. Staring him straight in the eyes.

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	4. Chapter 4

Don't worry guys, problem slightly solved!

Now, I really hope you enjoy this chapter!

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Just as soon as their eyes met, she didn't just look away. She did a complete turn around, her back facing him. Leaving him staring stupid at the back of her pretty little head. Blinking, he cleared his throat and looked around the room. Walter was talking with Astrid, using wild hand gestures. Olivia was now leaning against the nearest desk, listening too intently to their conversation. When his eyes found Charlie, he was walking up to Olivia, placing a hand on her back.

Instant irritation rose in Peter. _Didn't that guy have a wife or something?_ Peter watched as he leaned in, whispering something in her ear. She turned to look at him, her lips parting in surprise. Quietly, Peter moved around the lab table, taking small, silent steps closer to them.

"...what you're talking about," Olivia was saying, her voice hushed.

Charlie opened his mouth to say something, but his eyes caught Peter's deadly cold glare. He looked unfazed, instead looking back at Olivia and raising his eyebrows. Then, abruptly, he turned around and walked briskly towards the door.

She turned in Peter's direction and froze when she saw him. Then, catching herself, she nodded. "Hey," she greeted, calmly.

"Hey," he replied, his features instantly softening.

"Walter have anything I can use as a lead?" He tilted his head to the side and studied her for a moment. Her stare was level, she was standing still. You would never have guessed she was trying to avoid him. But he knew her better than that.

"I was... I was just coming to check. He should be-..." His mind went blank and sighed. "We should talk."

"We should," she agreed. Well, that was easy. He had expected she put up a fight. Then again, she was surprising him around every corner these days. He just hoped he wouldn't go around a blind corner and be full blown out confused off his ass. He needed just a little bit of an upperhand, at least.

Glancing around the lab, he subconsciously reached out to touch her arm, turning her in the direction of her office. He stared at her dumbfounded when she stiffened, stepping away from him. She headed towards the office without giving him a second glance. This was going to be hell. As soon as he stepped into her office, shutting the door behind him, he let out a breath. He turned around, expecting her to be standing there with her arms crossed, staring him down.

But, instead, she was leaning on the edge of her desk, her palms flat on the surface, as she stared at him. There was a strand of hair loose from her ponytail that made her look so innocent. Maybe he could tuck it behind her ear, and not be so deceived by her looks. He knew she wasn't innocent. She was just fragile. Not that she let anyone know, she was amazing with her masks and walls. Almost better than him. It was equally thrilling and tiring to meet a match.

"I kissed you," he pointed out, subtly point at her, his voice almost skeptical.

"I'm aware of that," she explained almost mockingly, her head tilting to the side.

"I... know." Where was this going? "But, I mean, are you sure?" Her brows instantly jumped up, and he held his tongue to keep himself from stumbling over his words. Calmly, he continued. "You've acted like we barely know each other. Do you know me?"

"I know you," she answered, the edges of her mouth twitching up.

"No you don't," he corrected.

"I don't." She was enjoying this, he could tell.

"Damn it," he cursed, crossing his arms. She shifted, like she was about to stand up and walk over to him. But she held still, and he sighed. "Okay. This is childish."

"I agree. So why don't you get straight to the point. I have a case to work on." Whoa. Talk about getting defensive. She took a step towards him, crossing her arms.

"I think... I think we need to screw protocol and regulations. I'm technically not your co-worker. You can't technically get in trouble." Oh yeah. That was him pleading his case. Straight, professional. Nothing about what they both know they want. Nothing about feelings or emotions. He knew she'd like that.

It was silent as she studied him for a moment. "That's just the thing. I don't _want_ to." _Ouch. Talk about a shoot down. _He'd be feeling _that_ one in the morning.

"Okay." He understood. All those signals she's sent, all the flirtatious comments and smiles were just her being bored. Never really meant anything, right? Or maybe, he just jumped to conclusions. Assumed things. Maybe the way she had pressed her body to his, her fingers latching onto his hair to keep his face close, had all been a figment of his imagination. It would certainly explains things. Not like now, where he was completely baffled.

"And you want to know why?" Her voice was raising, her arms dropping. _Here we go._ "I know what you think I am. I don't buy into your bullshit charm, okay? You can say all that you want, I know what you are. You're a fraud. You think you can get whatever you want just by bending the rules here and there. Hell, throw in one of your gorgeous smiles, and it's a done deal. But you know what, Peter? I'm not an idiot. I'm not a easy target."

So, that's what this was all about? She thought he was just toying with her, trying to get in her pants just because he thought he could? In all honestly, he was a little hurt that she'd think he was so shallow. Did he _not_ put his life out on the line, every fucking time she even _seemed_ like she_ might_ need him? Did he _not_ spend countless hours awake at night, putting up with his father, just so he could help Olivia solve the cases? To make her smile?

"I think it's best if we just keep a professional distance." Her face was stone cold blank. His little Olivia didn't surprise him there.

"Liv, come on." He sighed, put she pushed past him towards the door. "Listen to me, okay? This is crazy." But she ignored him, stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind her. _Let me rephrase that... _you're _crazy._

After a moment, he reached out and hit the pencil holder off her desk. It flew out, hitting against the wall and tumbling to the ground, it's contents spilling out. This was bullshit, right? How could she _think_ that? He felt like punching something, but had enough self control to restrain himself. _Professional distance, my ass._ He'd be damned if he let her go that easy. Cliche as it might sound, Peter knew this was something he was going to fight for. The world only came by an Olivia Dunham once. Even if she _was_ being completely irrational at the moment.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks so much for the reviews! They give me all the motivation!

I fear finals are coming up, so I'll most likely be even slower with the updates. I apologize in advance :(

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Professional distance meant barely any contact at all, Peter soon learned.

She seemed to be working perfectly without him. He refused to let that sting. When he offered to go with her to question a suspect, she had professionally declined his invitation. When he told her the new information he learned, she professionally listened. When he stood a little too close to her, she professionally inched away.

He found himself in an unfortunate situation. It wasn't like this a few days ago! Sitting at his lab table, his elbows propped up on it, he stared at her. Olivia was talking to Astrid, about what he didn't know. But she was smiling, shaking her head in a playful way. He could practically see the relief of getting rid of him float around her. If he blinked, he would think this was what she wanted all along. Like she just got sucked into the playful flirting and the longing glances with him.

But he didn't blink. And thus saw the way her eyes glanced downward when Astrid looked away. Saw the way a shadow crossed her face, and her eyebrows knitted together. Saw the pain, confusion, and regret etched so clearly in her face. And as soon as it was there, it was gone. And she was looking back up at Astrid, a joke tumbling from her mouth as she laughed. Peter just wanted to make it all right for her.

Difficult, since he was the problem.

"What did you _do?_"

Good question. What _did_ he do? Obviously, he kissed her. But, she kissed him back, so why was he getting all the blame? Why did she have to make this so fucking difficult? They were reasonable adults. Was this how it always happened? He wouldn't know, never being in this predicament before.

"Hmm?" Peter turned to look at Charlie, who had walked up and threw a file under his nose.

"To her," Charlie clarified, nodding to Olivia. Peter turned back to watch her.

As if she could hear them, she glanced up. For a moment their eyes met. He gave her the best smile he could, not sure what he should be trying to convey. Longing? Sadness? Relief? But it worked, and she gave him the slightest smile back. He hoped it was because she couldn't resist, rather she felt she should. She looked to Charlie with the same smile, and then looked back to Astrid.

"I don't know," Peter answered after realizing he hadn't replied.

"I haven't seen her like this since right before she started dating John." Peter felt his chest tighten at the mention of her and John together. Not because he was jealous, even though he was, but because he knew how much that man had hurt her.

"I don't understand," Peter answered, pulling the file closer to him and flipping it opened. He began to shift through the papers, not really seeing them.

"The victim showed signs of a heroin in her system upon her... death," Charlie answered, gesturing towards the file in Peter's hand. Peter didn't explain he understood _this_, just not what he was referring to about Liv.

"Addict?" he inquired.

"Possibly." Peter closed the file and handed it back to Charlie. "Either way, it's something to go on," Charlie explained. "I thought you could throw the idea around with Liv. She's convinced it has nothing to do with the matter, which I admit, is unlike her. Usually she's following anything she gets."

Peter looked up at the man. He was staring at Peter, hopeful. Obviously, he believed Peter and her had some sort of connection. As if he could convince her to do something Charlie, her friend whom she's known longer, couldn't.

"Yeah, sure. No problem." He said it so nonchalant, even though he was more than hopeful. This could help him talk to Olivia. Start off with professional chatter, then worm his point into the conversation. He didn't notice Charlie had walked away, instead propping his elbows up on the table and gazing at Liv, thinking of how to start the conversation and what to say.

--

The timing was perfect, he had to admit. Walter had just left with Astrid, who had promised him she'd get him some caramel caribou ice cream. Charlie was at the bureau. Peter was standing at his project he was building for Walter so he could play his old music. He was standing perfectly, so whenever he looked up he could see Olivia.

She had set up on the floor a few yards away. Sitting down on her knees, she stared evenly at the photos and papers. She had been complaining about needing some sort of cork-board at the lab, but her request had been ignored by more urgent things. So, until she brought up the issue again, she would lay everything out on the floor, staring at it and rearranging it. Usually it was in her 'office', but on occasion like today she would do out in the open.

There was a comfortable silence as they both worked. The only sound being the noise of his tinkering, and her papers scraping the ground. Even though their relationship was in turmoil, he was completely content with the moment.

Until the fan turned on. Peter had set it up a couple weeks ago after growing sick with the heat of the lab. He set an auto-timer on it to turn it on at the hottest points. Like right now, with the heat of all the electrical equipment mugging the air.

As soon as it hummed to life, Peter could hear her papers swishing up, blowing out of the set up. "Damn it," she cursed, catching the papers.

He dropped the small screwdriver that was in his hand and quickly moved to the fan. Hitting the switch, he turned to face her. She had a handful of papers in her hand, a frown on her face. Sensing his gaze, she looked up at him and gave him a half smile. Taking that as an invitation, he walked over to her, kneeling down to pick up a photo that had blown out of her reach.

"Thanks," she said, taking it from him.

"You know," he started, "there's an easier way to do this."

"There's always an easier way to do everything." She began to place the papers and photos down like she had them before.

He hesitated for a moment before sitting down completely, criss-cross. She glanced up at him, but further ignored him as she finished. "Charlie's convinced there's more to the addiction theory." He reached out and picked up the photo of the girl. She was in her early twenties, soft blonde hair pinned up in a messy ponytail. A small smile as she looked at the camera, the soft glow of the sun lighting up her gentle features. They had taken the photo from the family, who wept and urged them to find the killer of their little girl. She looked pretty; innocent in a way. He couldn't see her as an addict to anything.

"And he told you to talk to me," she assumed, taking the photo from him. She sighed, staring at it. "So you think the heroin caused all her blood vessels to just... erupt?"

"No. But," he gestured to the photo, "girls like _her_ don't do heroin. She was class president in high school. She was studying to be a _vet._ She was going to save stray dogs and fuzzy kittens." He cocked an eyebrow.

"She didn't deserve die," Olivia stated and Peter nodded.

"Who does?" He sighed.

"The people who did this to her." She looked up at him, and he wanted to kiss her so badly when he saw all the determination in her eyes. But she back looked down, and he realized it probably wasn't the best idea. "So, the killer injected her with heroin? But... why?"

"Guess we need to figure that out." He gazed at her, leaning back on his palms. She nodded absently, staring at the photo as she bit her lower lip. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes as he let it out slowly. "Listen... Liv..."

"Hmm?" He opened his eyes to look at her. She was rearranging some pictures, seemingly ignoring his presence. But he knew she was very alert and aware of him.

"I'm not sorry."

Tilting her head up to look at him, she raised her eyebrows. "For what?"

"I'm not sorry for kissing you," he explained. She let out a breath he hadn't realized she had been holding. But, she didn't look irritated, or angry at him for bringing it up. She looked calm, almost understanding. Slowly, she set the paper she had in her hands down, but not looking back at him. "I don't care if everything's different between us. I _really_ wanted to kiss you, and I did, and I don't regret that. So bring on the awkwardness and uncomfortable situations. Let's have it."

She sighed, and he sat up straight, pulling his hands to rest on his knees. Running a hand through her hair, she slowly brought her eyes up to look at him. They were soft, maybe relieved. His heartbeat jumped up, and he impatiently waited for her to say something. "Peter... I'm-"

But before she could say anything else, the lab door bursted open. She turned to look at it as Astrid and Walter came in, but he didn't take his eyes off of her.

"Peter! Olivia! We brought you back some. Peter, I got you sherbet, I know it's your favorite." Walter held up the small bag excitedly, a smile on his face. He was so unaware of how angry Peter was with him right now.

"That's great, Walter." Olivia had gathered up all the pictures, standing up and making her way to them, leaving Peter sitting alone and impatient on the floor. "Fucking fantastic," he muttered to himself.


	6. Chapter 6

Holy COW it took FOREVER to update this story. I don't know, I was on a roll and then suddenly: BAM. Dead end. Could not think of anything to write. Worst case of writers block ever. So, I kinda just tried to wrap this up as best as I could. Hope you like it enough.

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She hadn't wanted him to come. He could tell by the way her eyes flickered around the room when he offered. But he didn't back down, and she was forced to allow him the passenger seat. She wanted to pretend like nothing happened? Then they were going to pretend like nothing happened. He went on stake-outs with her when he wasn't needed, so un-needed he came. Besides, how often did someone get to intercept a drug deal?

With a caramel macchiato to warm his stomach, a beautiful yet distant blonde to hold his attention, Peter enjoyed the view of the dark alleyway full of littered trash and moldy something-or-others.

Wasn't he glad he was blackmailed into returning to Boston?

"So," Peter sighed, "what's this kid's name again?"

"Malcom," Olivia answered, not even glancing over to look at him. But not because she was grinding her teeth, ignoring him. No, she was buckling down for the task at hand, watching the alley closely.

They were parked across the street from the entrance, the right side of the car facing it. So, if he wanted to look into the alleyway, he'd have to lean to look past Olivia and out of her window. Perfect, by the end of the night he'd grow a hunch. Sitting so his back was pressed against the seat, he resorted to peering at the street and sidewalks over the rim of his coffee.

The sun had pretty much set, casting outside in a blue-ish glow. A few stars peeked through, and he was reminded of the little poem his mom had taught him to say at sight of them_. Star light, star bright_, he mused to himself. Back then he would wish for things like a new bike, or a little brother. Two things he never received. And after spending a straight month wishing his father would quit his job and actually be a father, to no prevail, he stopped believing the childish poem.

Hoping to forget those memories, he leaned forward and flicked the radio on. This caught Olivia's attention and she turned to look at him.

"Relax," he said, with a laugh. "The windows are tinted to the point of not even Superman would be able to look through. And I'll keep it down, so those crackheads with the super-hearing won't be able to hear it," he promised.

Her eyes stayed on him for a few lingering seconds, before returning to the alley.

There was a moment of silence between them as a song softly played. He didn't recognize the male lead singer's voice, but tapped his finger against the coffee cup to the beat. Peter was not a patient person. Obvious statement, but entirely true. It had only been roughly seven minutes parked here, and he was already growing bored. While Olivia showed no change whatsoever. In fact, it looked like she had barely moved. Still sitting tense, face turned away from.

"Liv," he prompted.

"Hm?" she replied.

His sigh was loud and clear in the silent pause between songs. He saw her head turn a fraction of an inch in his direction. "How long do you think it'll be before the druggies come out to play illegal swap?" he questioned, cheekily.

"It could be a while." Was that frustration in her voice he was hearing? Shifting, he turned the radio down a notch, so he could focus his thoughts.

He knew he was going to bring it up from the second he got the idea to accompany her. But the whole time, while he wondered just _how_, he was without an answer. He's a born genius, but the fundamentals of this stuff got him. How was he supposed to say, 'Hey Liv, you know that kiss you're denying? Yeah, let's do it again. This time don't run away. Oh, and guess what? I think I like you a lot more than I thought,' without sounding like a persistent jackass who won't let it drop or a love-struck fifth grader?

Oh the dilemma he faced.

How _could_ he let it drop, though? That feeling he got was clawing his way up his throat, forcing him to argue with her every time she pretended nothing happened, or every time she didn't bring it up.

The song playing gently in the background was slow, and melancholy with the hopeful twinge in the singers voice. Peter was almost tempted to switch the whole thing off. But, focusing own frustration towards himself, he shifted to look at Olivia better.

"You know..." She turned to look at him. He wasn't expecting that. "I was..."

At his hesitation, she took a moment to glance back at the alley.

Sighing, he fell back to a comfortable sit in his chair. What was he thinking? Bringing this up on a stake-out? A potentially-blood-vessel-bursting-drug stake-out, for that matter. She turned back to look at him, wavering. He shook his head dismissively, looking out his door window. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her look away, clearly unconcerned with what he had attempted to tell her. For, the best. _I mean, what did I expect? She was gonna hang off my every word? You're not that irresistible, Peter._

Her hand whipped out and shut off the radio. "Malcom," she hissed when he was about to protest. Leaning forward so far, his cheek could have pressed against the cheek, he peered around her. Sure enough, a lanky looking figure in a black hoodie was handing something to a more bulky one. Could they really be more suspicious looking? His respect, very little to begin with, dropped for drug dealers.

-

_Okay, that's it._ By the end of the day he was already fed up with the games and yearning.

They had just solved the case. Malcom had indeed been selling a mega-drug, unwittingly of course. He pointed them in the direction of his supplier. A genius scientist bent on worldly chaos. Well, actually bent on killing as many druggies as he could for "pressuring" his son into becoming addicted and over-dosing. So he claims, but everything always seemed to be connected, whether first glance appeared so or not.

The girl who first died was a test run. The crazed-dad experimented on her. Quite unremorsfully, in fact. Turns out she dumped his son when he first got addicted. Instead of wasting her life trying to "lead him back onto the right path".

Glancing up at the sky, Peter took in the dark night. It was mostly clouded, with a few stars peeking through. The moon light was visible through a patch of thin cloud, enough to light the parking up. He was leaning against Olivia's car, hands shoved in his coat pockets as his eyes scanned around. It was a bold tactic, to jump her as she was beginning wind down, ready to go home.

_Okay, wrong choice of the word 'jump', _he thought to himself with a small smile.

But this was going to be settled tonight, whether she liked it or not. There was no chance he was going to waste another night, tossing and turning. His half-asleep dreams being taunted with visions of blond hair, and heated kisses.

So, his heart jumped when he saw her exit the college, the wind pushing her hair back behind her. She hadn't spotted him yet, digging through her pockets to find the keys. A few strands of her hair blew into her face. Add how the moonlight danced on her face, lighting her eyes up, and she looked more than beautiful. If only she knew what she was capable of. How fast she was making his heart beat right now. But he knew part of the reason for his thundering heart, was the excitement that she _didn't_ know.

He had come across a lot of girls in his days. He knew he was good-looking. Sarcastic humor, charming. Amp up the bad-boyness and he could have girls eating out of his hands. And he used to, all the time. Used what nature had given him to his advantage. But most of the girls he got were all the same, if he squinted. They all blurred together in his memories, and he couldn't tell them apart. Before, that didn't matter to him. But, looking at Olivia... Seeing how incredibly different she was, made his past turn grey. And soon, he just wanted to cut himself from them, and not remember who he was before.

He shifted, pulling his hands out of his pockets, and she looked up when she reached him, stopping in her tracks. "Hey... what's up?" she asked, awkwardly. He let himself smile at her slowly, til he had on a full grin.

Shrugging, he watched her walk over to the door, turning his head to watch her.

"Good job on the case, today," she congratulated.

"You're the one who put two and two together. I just presented the facts," he explained, leaning so his arm brushed hers as she unlocked the door.

She nodded, biting her lower lip. He pushed himself from the car, circling so he stood right behind her. She followed his move, turning around so her back was now to the car, facing him.

It was a surprisingly easy decision to make, even though he knew it wasn't part of his plan. Settling it didn't include stirring it up. But she looked like she wanted it just as badly as he did.

He took a step forward, dipping his head. Her hand went to his cheek as he leaned in, closing his eyes. He felt her lips meets his halfway. This kiss was slow and sweet, unlike the desperate one they had first shared. He stepped closer to her, pressing himself to her as she leaned back into her car. And just like before, everything around them slipped from his mind. His thoughts froze, the only thing his mind could do was move him physically. He could care less about caring.

He cupped her face, letting his thumbs stroke her cheek as the kiss slowed. She stopped, and he pulled back, but rested his forehead on hers. He could feel her breath on his face, and God did that feel good. It was hot and sweet, and he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes.

"That was stupid," she breathed.

He didn't answer, just tilted his head to hers. But, she turned away at the last second and he froze. Letting out a sigh against her neck, he turned and gave her a lingering kiss on the cheek. Letting his hands drop from her, he pulled away. She was staring at the pavement, her hands back flat against the car. The only thing he could do was frown.

Then, suddenly remembering what he was gonna ask her, he straightened. "What were you going to say? Earlier, when Walter and Astrid came in?"

She still wasn't looking at him. In fact, she hadn't moved an inch. "I don't even remember," she lied. He shook his head, but let her have that one. He'd get her to tell him eventually.

"Olivia," he said. Her name tasted even sweeter passing through the lips hers had just occupied. Shaking his head, he glanced up at the sky, before back at her. "Well... I'll be here." He paused, waiting for her to respond, but she didn't. "Whenever you change your mind."

Hoping his words would settle in, he turned to leave.

But he was stopped. She grabbed his arm, pulling him back to her. He didn't stop moving til he was pressed against her, and she pressed her lips to his. She kissed him this time with more determination. He couldn't deny the feeling, mixed with the others, of relief that washed over him. Her fingers combed through his hair, and he swore he could feel goosebumps forming on his arms as her lips moved against his.

She pulled back, and he let her a little reluctantly. Her eyes flickered to look up into his. He could see little brown specks in her eyes. "Okay," was all she said, before he couldn't resist leaning in again.

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Ehh... not to happy with this one. If it's acceptable, review :)


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